


Game Theory

by Leyenn



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Poker, Porn Battle, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Deanna make a private bet during a poker game. Inevitably, one of them loses. Written for the Porn Battle XII, <i>bet</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game Theory

"I like being tied up," Deanna says, contemplating her cards. "It's fun."

Across the table, Worf actually twitches. On anyone else, his expression could be taken as mild discomfort, but for him, it's practically mortified. "A Klingon would never allow such a... humiliation."

Deanna smiles and tosses a chip into the center. "Fifty. If it's truly humiliating, Worf, you're probably doing it wrong."

Beverly deals out the next street silently, letting the conversation continue. Worf grunts, looking thoroughly unconvinced by that line of argument. "Still. It is... unwise, to show such weakness. Even to a mate."

He could tell Worf that she's only doing this now for the amusement value, and that it's a lost cause trying to argue the merits of sexual repression with a Betazoid, but there are so few people who can put that look of - and although Will Riker is not truly empathic, even a dead man could probably pick this up - slight but actual _fear_ in Worf's eyes. It's far too much fun to try and call her off.

"On the contrary, it takes a great deal of strength to relinquish control to someone else. Even to a mate." Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "Would you like me to show you?" she asks, deliberately innocent, and Geordi spits his drink back into his glass.

He laughs. Maybe that's going a _little_ far. He even feels a little sorry for Worf. "Deanna, it's not nice to tease."

She looks at him deadpan, but he can feel her playful amusement in his head. "Who said I was teasing?"

Worf clears his throat. "I could not."

Geordi chuckles under his breath. Deanna smiles over at him and then looks mildly back at Worf. "Oh?"

"It would be..." Worf looks across at him and shifts uncomfortably in his chair, which for him is practically telegraphing a desire to run screaming from the room. "Dishonorable."

Deanna's expression switches instantly: she leans back in her chair with her arms crossed, eyebrows arched at the obvious implication. Her tone is flat and deadly. " _Really._ "

He almost wants to say something to calm her; he certainly thinks he should warn Worf to stop digging. Instead of doing either he grins at her, deliberately projecting a mix of curiosity and amusement. He knows full well the answer, but he can't resist a little teasing of his own; "I wasn't aware I had first refusal."

She glares at him. It's a good thing he has experience weathering that look, or he'd burst into flames. "Unless you're planning on joining in, you don't."

Worf may be trying to invent a new game entirely, from the way he's so intent on his hand. "Klingon mating is extremely... vigorous. It requires a great deal of..." He pauses, like he's hunting a word, and finally settles on; "Endurance."

Deanna's frosty expression drops away, and anyone else might think they were out of trouble, but he knows better: that wicked glint in her eyes is far more worrying. "You don't think Will could handle it?"

"Klingons also rarely mate with other males."

Deanna fans her cards out on the table. "Oh?"

"It can be somewhat... dangerous." Worf coughs, though it comes out as more of a rumble, and turns over his cards. "Fold."

He can't help it: he snorts with laughter. "Whatever, Worf." He's willing to lay all his winnings this year on the fact that when it comes to sex at least, Deanna can be far more dangerous and definitely - beautifully - more depraved than any Klingon in the Empire. "Fifty, then, and another fifty. Geordi?"

"I have enough trouble getting women to even date me, without convincing them to try kinky sex games." Geordi checks his cards and sighs. "Fold."

Deanna smiles sympathetically. "Beverly?"

Beverly rearranges her cards as she considers the question. "I agree, it's fun, with the right person. Though it has been a while."

Deanna's eyes twinkle. "I meant the bet, but that's too bad."

"Oh." Beverly blushes and looks back at her cards, then echoes Geordi's expression. "Dealer folds."

"Not your night?" he says playfully. She shrugs. He glances back to Deanna. "Looks like it's just you and me, then."

"Looks like it."

He looks over his hand again, moves the two of clubs out and slots it between the ace and four of diamonds. _Care to make this a little more interesting, imzadi?_

She checks her hole cards again. _What did you have in mind?_

He, unlike Worf, doesn't bother to beat around the bush. Not with Deanna. _You know_ exactly _what I have in mind._

Her eyes sparkle: he knows that smile. The game is on. "See the bet, and another..." She picks up some chips. "Hundred."

Geordi whistles, and sits back as if he's watching a particularly interesting game of racquetball. Or possibly Parrises Squares.

Beverly's eyebrows are distinctly raised as she deals out the next round. Deanna gives no reaction at all to her six of diamonds; he gets the five, absolutely confident that she can't pick up his reaction either. He loves playing poker with her: it's far more challenging. She's a large part of the reason he's gotten so good.

So it's really going to be her own fault, he thinks. _I'm on beta shift tomorrow. Plenty of time to recuperate from anything... strenuous._ "Two hundred, and a hundred more."

Worf growls, disgusted. "He has a flush."

Deanna smiles. "Do you think so?" _And I have no morning appointments. Isn't that convenient?_

 _Very._

She looks at her cards, before reaching for her drink and taking a slow sip. _You're going to make me scream so hard even tritanium won't hide it._ "Three hundred?"

He arches an eyebrow. "Too rich for you?" _A good thing the woman next door will be too busy to complain, then, isn't it?_

 _Very,_ and she matches his tone exactly. She gives him her best Fifth House smile, sweet and more dangerous than a whole pack of Klingon women. "Six hundred."

Beverly's eyes widen. Geordi shakes his head. " _She_ has a straight."

"Maybe." Maybe she does. Maybe she doesn't. Either way he's going to have a lot of fun. "Beverly?"

"Hmm? Oh." She picks up the deck, burns a card, and deals them both the last round, face down. He peeks and the two of spades looks back at him: completely useless, so he's now betting with three aces and hoping Geordi's wrong.

Not that he's going to let Deanna know that. _You're going to enjoy having your way with me._ "Six hundred, and the rest."

She smiles like he's just done exactly what she wanted, and pushes her own pile of chips into the center. _That's what you think._ "Call." _Oh, the things you're going to do to me, imzadi._

He grins and flips his cards over.

Deanna grins back at him, and does the same.

  


*

  


He slides his fingers into her again, agonisingly slow, and Deanna moans and writhes against his bed, biting her lip. _Oh, god, oh, god..._

She's been chanting that in his head for the last five minutes, and he's been grinning like a lunatic the whole time because she's _beautiful_ like this. It's without doubt the best idea either of them have had in a long time.

She's going to have bruises around her wrists tomorrow, the way she's pulling against the restraints, but he knows better than to try and keep her still; Deanna is perfectly capable of more control than most people, if she wants that, but this is about the exact opposite. All her control is in his hands now, handed over without hesitation with one simple request. _Do what you want._

And what he wants is her like this, naked and bound and blindfold on his bed, writhing on his fingers, gasping and moaning and fighting to get more of him when he teases away for the hundredth time. He wants her bitten and bruised and aching to come, with coming so much and so hard and so long. He wants her to walk out on the bridge tomorrow still feeling him all over her.

 _God, oh, gods..._ She lost the coherency to say anything out loud two orgasms back, and he's quite proud of that. _Please, Will, please, please..._

"No," he says gently, and that's all it takes for her to sob with frustration.

 _Please, oh gods, please_

"Not yet." He leans down and kisses the inside of her thigh, then grins and bites her again, hard enough that she lets out a soft scream.

" _Oh-_ " _Oh yes, please yes, please_

He knows exactly what she's begging for: the image is bright and clear in her head, the desperate need for it. The more he denies her the brighter it gets, the more it comes into focus: right now it has edges sharp enough to cut him, if he touches it, but he's not quite ready to do that yet.

Instead he moves around a little and licks her thigh, the skin soft and hot and red from his teeth. Deanna gasps, tries to pull away and get closer - he can feel it, that she doesn't know which she wants more, so he decides for her by the simple means of sliding his fingers out of her and holding her thighs apart, brushing his thumbs across the sensitive skin. She sobs again at the loss of his fingers and arches her hips up: he can feel the _want_ burning through her, how much she desperately _needs_ him to fill her with something, _anything_ , whatever he wants but _please Will please please god please I need, I_ need _I can't take this I can't_ and then even her thoughts falter as he lowers his head and flicks his tongue against her clit.

He counts loudly in his head, where she can hear it; she hates that and he can feel it driving her crazy, and he only gets to twelve before she comes under his tongue, shaking and crying out his name and _oh please stop stop don't stop_

 _Stop?_ He pulls back, only enough that she'll feel the heat of his breath against her. _Do you want me to stop?_

Deanna shakes her head against the pillow, desperate. _No, no no no please, please don't_

 _Don't stop?_ He leans in again, so very, very slowly. She smells intoxicating and tastes even better, hot and wet, musky and female and familiar. He's always loved the taste of her. _Tell me,_ he says, sharply, and she sobs his name, gasping in a breath.

 _Please don't stop, Will, please, I don't - I don't want you to stop..._

He knows that, or he wouldn't have even asked, but she deserves a reward for admitting it. He finds her clit with his tongue again, starts counting over from one and gets to thirteen this time before he feels her get close, so close - she's grinding down into his mouth, whimpering out loud and in his head, utterly lost in how good it all feels - and then he grips her thighs tightly to keep her still, sucks her clit hard and Deanna lets out a choked cry and comes all over again, even harder than ever.

His biggest advantage, with Deanna, is simple experience: he knows how to keep her going, knows how long he has before she starts to come down again, and so he can time it perfectly to replace his tongue with his fingers and keep her trapped as he slides up the bed and captures her nipple instead, already so tight and hard before he closes his teeth around it - moves his hips and thrusts into her in one stroke, hard, quick and deep, pushing his own pleasure into her mind at the same time.

Deanna screams and comes again for both of them, instantly, in a hot wet rush, and that's what breaks him - suddenly he's letting go, can't stop himself and knows she doesn't care, however rough he is it won't matter, and that she's right there with him for the all of half a minute it takes him to come for the first time tonight.

She's languid against him, still floating on that incredible high, when he finally reaches up and releases her hands. He kisses the inside of her wrist - red and already bruising from the restraints, even so carefully tied - and she moans softly, a shudder running through her. He slips the blindfold off with gentle fingers; her eyes are closed beneath the silk, and he presses a gentle kiss between them.

"Imzadi," he murmurs. She opens her eyes and smiles up at him, hazy and intoxicated, her voice shaking as she finds it again.

"Will..."

He strokes her hair. "You okay?"

Her eyes flutter shut again, the smile refusing to leave her lips. "Mmmm."

He grins. She's exhausted, he can feel it, and she just wants to sleep. He's more than fine with that. "I'm glad you won," he murmurs into her hair, and pulls her close.

  


*

  



End file.
